


Hamantaschen

by CenozoicSynapsid



Category: Shadow Unit
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Feed the Betas, Gen, Hamantashen | Oznei Haman, Latkes vs Hamantaschen, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 20:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CenozoicSynapsid/pseuds/CenozoicSynapsid
Summary: “What’s so great about greasy potato pancakes?” “Greasy. Potato. Pancakes. Is there something to not like?”An eternal debate, this time in the Shadow Unit briefing room.





	Hamantaschen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antongarou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antongarou/gifts).



> Set right after 1.03 "Dexterity".

“Hamantaschen,” called Falkner in the direction of the conference room.

“Latkes!” Chaz sounded almost obnoxiously chipper this morning. Especially after Chicago.

“I don’t even know you.” Worth was fitting in better these days. Some of that showed up as sarcasm. “What’s so great about greasy potato pancakes?”

“Greasy. Potato. Pancakes. Is there something to _not_ like?”

Falkner opened the door, which didn’t slow down the conversation any. _A month ago they’d have gone quiet. Guess I’m making progress._

“Hamantaschen,” she said again, setting the box she was carrying on the table. She eased into her usual chair, trying not to show how much she appreciated sitting down. Carrying a box of baked goods across the office shouldn’t hurt her back this much— although if those baked goods were meant to feed a pair of hungry betas…

“Wait, _actual_ hamantaschen? Here and now? You should have said!” Chaz rolled back the layer of waxed paper on top of the box and stared into it like Indiana Jones standing over the Ark of the Covenant.

“I _did_ say. Ben made them.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Hafidha Gates slipped through the door and into her seat at the foot of the table, setting down her laptop and a thermos of fresh coffee. Today’s was chrome, laser-etched with a writhing coil of tentacles.

Chaz nodded. “Yup. Poppy-seed on the left, chocolate in the middle, and… apricot?”

“Ben’s grandmother’s recipe.”

“ _Give_.” Hafidha waved the box towards herself imperiously.

“So you’re on Team Hamantasch?” said Worth. “Chaz argued for latkes.”

“One.” Hafidha held up a carnelian-tipped finger, counting. “There are plenty of other ways to fry potatoes. Two: I love any dessert that can make me fail a drug test. Three: which one goes better with coffee?”

“Latkes go better with gravy,” Chaz shot back.

“And if I had a big thermos full of gravy…”

“Is that really all I have to do to win this argument? You come cheap, little sis.”

“I know my price.” Hafidha waved placidly at him with one hand, meanwhile using the other to stack two of each flavor neatly in front of herself.

Falkner grabbed the box as it traveled back towards Chaz’s end of the table, selecting one with poppy seeds.

“What about you?” asked Worth. “Latkes, or hamantaschen?”

“She’s going to say latkes,” said Chaz. “Real food is dinner, not dessert, right?”

Falkner shot him a look. _Profilers._ He hadn’t been far off target— Chaz was good at his job, even if he did feel the need to be a smartass about it. But every debate had two sides, and it’d be bad for morale to let him feel like the only smart guy in the room.

“Hamantaschen have one advantage,” she said, searching her mind for something to say.

“Yeah?” Hafidha looked up. She’d been pulling the sides off the triangle one at a time, Falkner observed, then scraping off the filling with her teeth and eating the bottom of the pastry last. Amazingly, this hadn’t slowed her down; she was on her last one already. Even more amazingly, there were no crumbs anywhere near her.

“You make latkes at home,” said Falkner. “But you share hamantaschen with your friends.”

Worth beamed at her, that one-hundred-percent Daphne grin that lit up whatever room she was in. _What’d I do to deserve— oh. Well, that’s what I get for thinking too fast._ She smiled back. It was the truth, and the way she figured, it wasn’t going to hurt morale any either.

  
  



End file.
